Saturday, June 12, 2021

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #387

It's so nice to see you all here today. Help yourself to the fruit salad, find a chair with a soft cushion, and let's talk about spanking.

How do you feel about meeting like-minded spanking enthusiasts in real life? Does the idea appeal to you, or would you rather not reveal yourself to anyone. Have you actually met other spankos? How did the meeting make you feel?

As always, you may remain anonymous if you wish. Please leave your response as a comment or email me if you prefer. Once everyone has had the opportunity to speak, I will publish an edited summary of our conversation.


From Hermione's Heart

Friday, June 11, 2021

Friday FUN

We can't travel because of the lockdown, but we enjoy imaginary getaways by watching old reruns of "Escape to the Country", a British show in which couples want to move from busy urban areas to quiet country homes. Each show features three different properties as well as a brief scenic tour of the county and two segments of local crafts and historical features. I can't decide which county I'd move to; they all sound glorious!

There are some differences in the homes there and the ones in Canada, so I hope you can help me out with a few questions Ron and I have.

  1. What is the difference between a cottage and a house? Cottages are often large homes with several sitting rooms and many bedrooms, not the small structures I thought they would be. 
  2. Where is the refrigerator? The large farmhouse kitchens usually have an Aga (a type of stove we don't have here) and plenty of cupboards and furniture, but we hardly ever see a fridge.
  3. The ground in front of the house is often covered with gravel, and looks immaculate. Where are the weeds? Ron works daily to keep weeds from popping up in our flagstone driveway.
  4. Why is it called "semi-detached" when a home is actually attached to another one?
  5. Without a basement, where do you store all your stuff?
  6. What's the history behind the pennants? Most houses have at least one room with pennants strung across the wall, and I usually also spot them in village streets.

Don't get me wrong. The homes are all impressive, especially the barn conversions. I'd consider buying one if I won the lottery.

Here are some signs seen along the way from one house (or cottage) to another.







Stay safe!

From Hermione's Heart

Wednesday, June 9, 2021

From the Top Shelf - My Dirtiest Fantasy

Today I have a special treat for you. This story was sent to my by longtime reader and new brunch participant Jeanie. Her writing is very eloquent and oh so hot! In fact, I must warn you that there are parts that are sexually explicit, but there's plenty of spanking too.

My Dirtiest Fantasy

My boyfriend had to travel over the Memorial Day weekend. I missed him terribly, so badly that I masturbated myself to sleep every night while he was away. Pleasuring myself is not something Kyle approves of me doing, so I made sure that I told him all about it when he phoned me Sunday night.

“What's more,” I continued, “I was reading some D/s blogs, and one was about which room in your house you usually get spanked in. So I wrote in, telling them all about how we do it in every room in the house!” Kyle hates for me to air our kinky laundry in public almost as much as detests the idea of me touching myself. “Anonymously, of course,” I added about my blogging.

“You're trying to earn yourself a memorable spanking, aren't you, little girl?”

“Yes, Sir!” I answered brightly. “Memorable for Memorial Day. I'm feeling absolutely insatiable, my love. How soon will you be home to address my needs, my love?”

“I can't get there any sooner than what I've already told you, not til Monday night, naughty girl.”

“I'll try to hold on, lover mine, but you know what the Bible says…? The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak...”

“Just know that when I get home, the first thing I'm gonna do is spank the holy hell out of your cute ass.”

“I'm counting on it, lover. Hurry home.” I hung up. Strong feelings of guilt didn't prevent me from pulling my panties to the side in order to diddle my hungry pussy as I simultaneously logged onto our computer with sticky fingers.

At six P.M. Monday evening I had several pizzas delivered and a nice red wine bottle opened. I knew that the wine could breathe and we like cold pizza almost as much as when it's hot. I was naked when Kyle walked through the door, and bent over deeply in the middle of the room, presenting him with the choice of fragrant food or flagrant kink. Kyle chose wisely. He wrapped his left arm around my waist and held me tight as he began spanking my proffered butt really hard. The cruel slaps flooded my system with endorphins in no time, the blistering still hurt, but I floated above it all, enjoying the agony.

“I misbehaved on purpose, lover. I really need this,” I was able to enunciate through the pain.

“I know,” my lover replied.

“I'm not sorry. Make me sorry...”

The spanking went on for an eternity. I have a big bottom, and my Top covered every square inch of its roundness with heat. He spanked the backs of my thighs. He spanked me up the crack of my ass and on my rosebud. Then he returned to give my cheeks a second dose. My lover took all the starch out of me; he disciplined me until I was limp, worn out. Being an expert Dom, he read me perfectly.

Picking me up and carrying me to the bedroom, Kyle asked, “Learned your lesson?”

I nodded.

He wiped the tears from my cheeks, then used both moistened hands to cup and caress my throbbing backside. Our eyes remained locked, saying more than words ever could. He kissed me. I opened to him. He pushed his erection into my receptive sex and we made love in the Missionary position with our eyes closed in exquisite synchronization. I climaxed, feeling warm and fuzzy and fulfilled. Kyle thrust into me with renewed vigor as he kneaded the sore flesh of my fanny. I gasped audibly, I saw red and felt energized by the stoking of the fire that still burned there. He fucked me hard and I came again. He'd pushed me up the sheer slopes to two plateaus, higher than I think I'd ever been taken before. I was panting and sweating, but not done yet. Our eyes met, he saw my wanton desire, I saw the steely resolve. I shivered, suddenly chilled and covered with goose bumps, ready to say that I was sated, but he didn't give me that chance.

Kyle took me by the ankles and flipped me over onto my tummy. His left arm encircled my big bum as he parted me and anointed my rectum with lubricant that we keep handy for just such circumstances. He spit on my little brown spot, then crawled over me. I felt his hard cock press onto my rosebud. For the hundredth time, I wanted to scream for him to stop, sure that his big thing would never fit up my tight dimple. But just like every other time he'd taken me there, I relaxed and felt him penetrate my butt. There is nothing so profoundly primal as feeling a hard cock possess you in your most private place. I sighed as I felt his short curlies tickle the crack of my ass. No sooner was he balls deep up my butt than he reversed and I had to remind myself all over again to relax. I have never felt so fucked as when I've been fucked there, and never more so than this time, when there was an edge to it, when I'd been bad and my man was set on punishing me. The ass fucking was an extension of the hard spanking, it was all simply scorching heat applied to my tender backside, outside or in. It melted me down to my submissive essence. It was a forge that purified me.

“Fuck my ass, lover!” I cried out.

He plunged back into my depths. It felt like he was splitting me in half right up my crack. It burned. I had the image invade my mind that he was a bulldozer plowing a path into my core. I ignited and was engulfed in flames by the intensity.

“Fuck me where it's dirty, where it's sinful! Make me your whore, your butt-fuck whore, fuck me…!”

He did. He ass-fucked me while I yelled profanities. He fucked me up the bum while I cried. He fucked me where it's forbidden until I'd shed all my tears and my voice was hoarse. I felt consumed by his rogering of me where it's shameful. I felt like a phoenix rising from the ashes of my used and abused butthole and buttocks, a new creation altogether. My hands sought out his, I entwined my fingers into his fists where he propped himself up.

“I'm gonna cum!” I whispered urgently. “When I do,” I said with renewed energy,” my anus is going to suck the cum out of you. Cum with me…!”

As hot as all this was, I wanted it to be even hotter. As should be clear by now, I like to live out my sexual proclivities. I'm a self-actualized submissive who revels in her orientation. But I have one cherished fantasy that makes whatever I'm doing all the better. My dirtiest fantasy is to do everything I do with my lover in broad daylight in full public view, Out.

So I started running a tape in my head, fantasizing that all we had done was for an audience. I ran through my favorite venues. Should I choose Disney World, the happiest place on earth? Maybe at some chic Parisian restaurant like Le Tour de Argent, where they believe the fork was first used as an eating utensil? No, I decided on one of my most cherished locales on this planet, the natural beauty of a beach where many patrons enjoy it in their natural state. I began fantasizing about going to Black's Beach in La Jolla. I envisioned Kyle pulling my bikini bottoms down to spank me as he had, loudly, unforgivingly, without mercy. We'd make heads turn! I fantasized about fucking in the sunshine and salty air, first sweetly and then sweatily. What are they doing, sunworshippers would ask? My fantasies caught up with us and I imagined taking it deep up the butt while beach-goers gawked. Oh, my God, our onlookers would reply, look at the passion they are displaying, look at the place where they're doing it! I wanted/needed to make it sexier still.

“Kyle,” I moaned softly, “I feel guilty... for enjoying my punishment so much... After we climax, I want you to whip me… I want you to cane my deserving butt… hard. Will you cane me… meaningfully... lover…?”

In our household, I get punished with a wide variety of implements and pervertables, but rarely with the cane. It'd been a long time since I'd felt its wicked bite. In our household, I AM hand spanked with great frequency for “topping from the bottom,” the sin I was just committing.
“If you need a caning, you'll get a caning, young lady,” he assured me without losing his rhythm.
“...Thank you, lover!...You're so good to me! ...Now fuck me like you mean it,” and I pushed back into him as he thrust and we fucked faster and hotter and we could feel the heat building, so I gripped his hands in mine all the tighter and gripped his cock in my velvet vice all the tighter and I exploded in orgasm. My anus spasmed, my sizable glutes flexed. I came, grinding my sex into the mattress imagining it was the sand and our audience was still voyeuring spellbound on the beach.

We cuddled. I crawled in close, my head on his collarbone, my legs pulled up tight, his hand reassuringly resting on my tush. I needed this time, as I slowly resurfaced from the depths of my sub space. He gave me time, petting my hair, caressing my bottom, kissing me on the forehead, the nose tip, my lips. Then his arms encircled me, held me tight as he kissed behind an ear and down my neck. Goosebumps again took flight across the entire expanse of my epidermis.
Kyle whispered, “You spoke of needing a caning...”

I wanted to say that it was just my passion mouthing-off, that it was intended to arouse him and nothing more. I was exhausted, empty.

But I had meant it. I had wilfully disobeyed my lover, blogged about private matters while pleasuring my privates flagrantly and repeatedly. I'd behaved badly, been a naughty, nasty little girl. What is more, I had really enjoyed the sinful-to-the-point-of-forbidden act of anal sex, had reveled in my enjoyment of it. Kyle knew all this, but there was something more. I had enjoyed my freedom over the weekend without my Top there to direct me. I felt that I needed to reassert my submission. All these things ran through my mind in a nanosecond.

“Yes. I did. I… I need for you to cane me. I'll let you decide how many stripes I deserve. But, please, make sure I'm well and truly punished...” And I got up from the bed and bent over its edge, thrusting my bottom out.

Kyle went to fetch the cane from the closet, a thin, whippy rod that I'd only felt twice before in my life, and never with full force. He stood behind my behind and tapped the summit of my cheeks menacingly.

“I need for you to mark me. I need to feel this punishment for days,” I said bravely, then immediately recanted and asked, “Can I touch myself while you punish me?”

Kyle laughed derisively. You want to pleasure yourself while being punished…?”

Tears filled my eyes. “I don't think I can get through it otherwise...”

“I'm going to give you three hard stripes. If you take them like the good girl I want you to be, I'll let you touch yourself for the next three. We'll see how six of the best look glowing from your backside and decide then if you need still more stripes. Sound workable?”

I nodded, pushed my butt out further. I felt the rod tap my tush, then disappear. I heard a fearful swish cut through the air, simultaneously felt and heard the dreaded thwack burn into me, heard me yelp loudly. I could not believe how much that thin line hurt, burned, blazed its way into my entire being. I wanted to stand and seize my cheeks with both hands and scream that this was enough!

Instead I blinked away the tears and bent over deeper and carefully enunciated, “Thank you, sir. That's one. May I please have another…?”

Kyle was impressed with that gesture, but it did not soften his resolve to give his sub a memorable thrashing.

It took more than twice the resolve for me to absorb the second lash and repeat my mantra, exponentially more to take the third. I discovered that a cane stripe hurts like a motherfucker when it slashes across one's ass, but burns even more as it throbs afterward, as if the very air fuels the fire that burns there. My knees nearly buckled as that third lick seared its way into my soul. Whimpers gurgled up out of me that I could not swallow. I did not ask permission, I just thrust both hands down to my loins. The fingers of one hand opened my sex's labia, the fingers of the other circled my clit and frigged myself viciously. I wasn't fantasizing now. I was a lonely little girl getting her butt whipped and I needed consolation. Pleasure rippled through my insides, just a little electric jolt, but it was enough. I stuck my bottom out at my lover and stopped frigging long enough so that the target would hold still.

Swish, Thwack, “Yeow!” And I masturbated like a crazed monkey until I got that jolt.

Swish, Thwack, “Fuck!” Over and over. I was crying like a baby, wounded like an animal, in the basement of my sub space, but slowly, ever so gradually, my old friends, a surge of endorphins washed over me. I thrust my striped butt back at Kyle proudly and took his next lash, over and over.

For his part, Kyle did not want to beat his lover this hard. But he saw that she needed it. Her body language kept proclaiming, “Thank you, sir; may I have another?” She presented her wounded ass resolutely like a request, and he answered that plea with pain.

After twelve vivid welts radiated from my backside, Kyle turned me from leaning over our bed, so that I stood alone.

“Bend over deeper,” he commanded.

I obeyed. I felt my ravaged buttocks part, knew that I was now completely exposed. The tap of the cane told me that the next one would not just stripe my cheeks, but would reach into the crack, would punish my well-used anus, too.

Swish. Thwack!

The pain was other-worldly. I crumpled, unable to present my bottom to my Master for any more from his rod. I was broken, and therein I felt healed.

He ended up giving me a baker's dozen, thirteen blazing stripes, perfectly parallel, a patch of raised welts from where my butt crack started down to the under-curve where my cheeks meet my thighs.

I did not sleep a wink that night. I'd lay down next to my man for a bit, then launch out of bed to look at my bruises and welts over my shoulder in a full length mirror and marvel. I especially enjoyed taking a painful pinch of each buttock and pull my bum apart to stare at the stripe that touched my ruby red butthole. The view in the mirror excited me, but I did not masturbate. For the only time in my adult life, I felt above the need for sex. I didn't need sleep at those moments, either. I wore a red badge of courage across my round rump. My boyfriend had taken me to the mountaintop, to the pinnacle experience for this sub. I was satisfied.
Jeanie would love to know what you thought of her story.

From Hermione's Heart

Monday, June 7, 2021

Looking for Consensual Spanking?

My dear friend Red Often's blog Consensual Spanking has been taken offline by Google after a virus was discovered. Needless to say, Red is working hard to get his blog reinstated. I will keep you updated on his progress. But don't worry. His spankings are continuing.

We miss you, Red!

From Hermione's Heart

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for June 6

Before we begin today's brunch recap, I have some sad news. My dear friend Red Often's blog Consensual Spanking has been taken offline by Google after a virus was discovered. Needless to say, Red is working hard to get his blog reinstated. I will keep you updated on the progress. 

Now on to our recap. Do you love or hate your spankings? 

Roz: When we had an active dynamic most of the time it wasn't the spanking itself that I loved but the aftermath. The heat and glow and feeling of closeness and connection. The only spankings I loved were the light sexy kind.

As for spankings I wanted to avoid, that would have to be maintenance spankings, mainly as they used to include naked kneeling which I hated at the time.

Anon: Oh my! Do others feel that they could write volumes on this, or is it just me?
I wasn't spanked much as a child, the first time just enough to know that the wooden spoon hurt like the dickens. I convinced a boyfriend in high school to spank me, he giggled throughout, and I kicked him to the curb. I talked my next boyfriend through the experience and rewarded him with my virginity. Then I started looking for a guy who didn't need to be told what to do. Be careful what you wish for... 

Many "kissed frogs" later I'm with a wonderful man. He spanks me lovingly, sometimes moderately, which I adore. Sometimes he punishes my faults and is quite strict. It hurts like hell and I hate it when I'm receiving it. But I feel that same warm feeling as always afterward (& not just on my backside). Spankings have ALWAYS been sexual for me. Even after the harshest punishments (yes, I've received a strong dose of a variety of implements on my bared and deserving butt) and some moments of aftercare, I want to make love. 

So, I LOVE all spankings sooner or later, hate the really hard ones during the act. I feel all the more sexual & all the more fulfilled AFTER the really hard punishments. I "wish for" (fantasize about, writing about, masturbate about) spankings a lot (like when I haven't had one for a while, or when I've just received one, or...)

Yorkie: I love my spankings. I love every part of them from the anticipation of one to the magnificent after glow, including every single swat of the hair brush and stroke of the cane. A complete high from start to finish and a subsequent boost to my libido!

Bonnie: All these years later, it's still all love here. Even if I may not enjoy certain aspects, the net result is positive and deeply desired.

Rosco: I love them and crave them. But I do think over time they’ve become even more important to Irene.

She thrashed my bottom with two powerful leather whips yesterday. Both hurt like the dickens, but within seconds I wanted more. The thin whip (a quirt from Teskey) delivers a sharp sting that satisfies like cold lemonade on a hot summer day. And it leaves nice welts but no bruises.

Wendel: It is like the MEMEs say: ”Funny how things change with age. I used to hate taking naps and being spanked”
We love spankings and would not change a thing. 

I love that meme!

Ronnie: Yes I need to be spanked. I love it all, the anticipate, the spanking and the heat and glow my bottom has after.

Prefectdt: I do love my spankings. I do wish for spankings. I get the odd bad one, now and then but that is going to happen. My main complaint about my spankings is that there is not enough of them.

Red: I love to be spanked. The lead up and the afterglow are wonderful. The more the merrier, and the longer the better. However, during the spanking I used to wonder why I wanted this, but now, the spankings are stronger, so no time to think, just absorb the spanks.

Barrel: I love it too, that’s why I asked my wife to start spanking me over 40 years ago. The build up messes with my mind which is a treat. The spanking is wonderful, no matter how hard and long. I marvel how unsteady on my feet I am after a thorough thrashing. Ah yes, the aftercare. Always the best when she asks me what implement was the best and promises more of that one next time.

Joe: I have had a life long desire for spanking and look forward to every spanking. Each spanking relieves any stress I may have and really gets me going. The warm stinging after is incredible. Sometimes I want more then T can deliver but I always feel better.

Hermione: Like all of you, I love them! At the time, maybe not so much. But I love the anticipation beforehand and the after glow when it's over. Even during one, I enjoy the feeling of being under someone's control.

It's unanimous then!

From Hermione's Heart

Sunday, June 6, 2021

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #386

Welcome one and all to our regular weekend discussion. This week I am turning the clock back to Bonnie's first ever brunch. It was called The Open Mike Spanko Brunch, and the response from her readers was very enthusiastic. Bonnie asked three different sets of questions, so today I'm using the first set, and will use the other two in the weeks to come.

Do you love your spankings? Do you hate them? Both or neither? Do you wish for spankings? Or do you pray to avoid them?

If any of Bonnie's original brunch guests are still around, please step forward and introduce yourself to our group. We would love to meet you!

Please respond by leaving a comment or by sending me an email. I'll publish an edited summary of our conversation once everyone has had a chance to speak.



From Hermione's Heart

Friday, June 4, 2021

You Completed the Caption

KDPierre: Hilda soon understood why her postman had just brazenly tucked those letters into her exposed butt-crack rather than depositing them in her mailbox. 

"Dang! But I guess that's what I get for tryin' to order eggs online when there are Covid-induced delays in shipping." 

Rosco: Hilda had ordered a new swim suit several times after the confrontation with ladies who were none too happy with the attention she got from their husbands. She didn’t like being the village Trollop, really she didn’t.

But it never seemed to arrive.

It hadn’t taken much to bribe the postman. Rosco was hoping his wife Irene would make good on her promise to give that floozy a proper spanking if she continued to parade around in that teeny weeny bikini. And he so wanted to be around to watch.

Morningstar: OH DANG - there's a bird's nest in the mail box - wherever shall I put the mail?!

Prefectdt: Hilda sighed and thought "I'm glad it's the mailbox that has Thrush and not me."

Anon: Hilda suddenly understood the meaning of that old saying, “Use it or lose it”.

Jack: The time of year when the males enjoy her walk to the mailbox, and the wives dread it. 

Liza: Hilda didn't believe that carrier pigeons had replaced the mail service until she opened her mailbox.

Hermione: Hilda waited anxiously for her parcel from Ronnie's Cane Emporium to arrive.

That was a fine way to start the day. You are all invited to brunch tomorrow. Be there or be square!

From Hermione's Heart

Wednesday, June 2, 2021

Complete the Caption

Our friend Hilda is waiting for something to arrive by mail. What could it be?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment, and I will publish your missives on Friday. Don't forget the stamp!

From Hermione's Heart